Angeldust
by ThreeJane
Summary: FINISHED! Part 2 of the Angel-Series. W/G and a bloody murder with a bit of N/S - new chapters after deserved vacation! R&R, please.
1. Shit Happens

Cursing under his breath Warrick stepped out of the shower-stall. The case was solved, but man! It had been a crappy job. Closing the zipper on his jeans the tall CSI walked over to the adjacent locker-room.  
  
"Yo, bro." Nick greeted him casually as he stored away his working-clothes.  
  
Warrick only grunted. His bad mood had not yet evaporated.  
  
"What's up? You solved the case, still you're grumpy."  
  
"I'd have gladly given that case to you, Nick! Man!" Warrick buttoned up his shirt, "You think it was fun to crawl around in the sewers for hours?"  
  
Nick winced compassionately and Warrick nodded, "Yeah. I can tell you rats are the least disgusting thing down there. Ugh! Why do I get all these crappy jobs? Collect dog-poop, swim in the sewers, collect used condoms... wonder what he has for me next time!"  
  
"Anyway, you're two cases ahead of me." Nick tried to comfort his friend.  
  
"And at least twice as smelly." He sniffled at his arms, the dark-skinned man was certain there was stink mingled in the scent of his shower-gel. Disgusting! "I can't get rid of it!" he muttered while he put on his watch.  
  
"The girls suggested a breakfast. Wanna join? You look starved" it was Nick's last attempt to lighten up Warrick's mood.  
  
"Naw, thanks. Not hungry. See ya tonight." Warrick left, leaving a frowning Nick behind. Usually it was not as hard to lighten Warrick up. The fact the other CSI was two cases ahead should have done so, the breakfast would have certainly. OK, since Greg was working overtime and Gil doing paperwork, it would be him and the two ladies. There had been worse options!  
  
+++++++  
  
Gil Grissom had seen Warrick leave the lab and speed off in his Tahoe. There had been no good reason for him to hurry after the younger man, so he sighed and decided to see Warrick as soon as he had finished his work for the day. The supervisor wondered what had caused the bad mood but had no clue to it.  
  
Greg had left five minutes ago and Gil was almost certain he was alone now. He locked up his desk and finally(!) left the building. Still very cautious about the new situation the man was reluctant to call Warrick from his office. Instead he sat in his car and dialed from his cell. There was no answer.  
  
Gil knew the phone stood right beside Warrick's bed. Plus: the man was far too curious as to not answer an incoming call, so the only conclusion possible was that Warrick was not at home. Gil checked the park: nothing. To make sure he decided to drive by Warrick's place.   
  
The man smiled to himself as he reflected his behavior. He was running after this guy like a love-struck teen! This was so unlike himself. On the other hand, it held a strange relief to allow himself doing so. The private moments they could share were rare and so far nothing had happened.  
  
Well, that was not true! From Gil's point of view a whole lot had happened! He had opened up, had allowed Warrick to glimpse his true self as much as he could bring himself to.  
  
Warrick's car was parked in the driveway so Gil decided to give it another try. The man hit the door-bell several times   
  
"Yeah, yeah, coming!" the muffled voice that came through the walls carried clear signs of annoyance. Eventually the door opened and a dripping wet Warrick stood there, his face hardly lighting up.  
  
"Ah, it's you. Come-in."  
  
"I tried to call you..."  
  
"I was having a shower. In fact, I still am. Gimme ten minutes, OK?" Warrick dropped the towel, revealing his bare butt as he walked back into his bathroom. The door slammed shut and Gil – not knowing what else to do – sat on the sofa, closed his eyes and listened to the sounds from next door.  
  
Warrick was so nonchalantly and gorgeous. Gil could still see that naked ass, had taken in the younger man's strutting moves. Such unconscious grace... Gil sighed.  
  
  
  
  
Meanwhile Warrick finished his shower. For thirty minutes he had scrubbed and soaped and scrubbed his body, never being able to get rid of the stench that seemed to stick to his body. Now that Gil was at his place, all he could do was rinse the soap and get dry. He snatched his briefs and put them on before he left the bathroom.   
  
"Did ya help yourself?" he asked with a glance at Gil, immediately regretting he had probably woken the man. Warrick pulled a tank-top from the closet and jumped into a pair of sweat-pants.  
  
"No. I am OK sitting here, thanks." Gil slowly reopened his eyes. Warrick walked to the fridge and fetched two beers. Handing one to Gil the lean man let himself fall down on the sofa.  
  
Gil tested the air. It was...  
"Could it be that you were a bit overzealous with perfume?" he asked.  
  
"Oh, that might come from crawling in the sewers for hours. Can't get rid of it." Warrick answered with a cynical voice,  
  
"Since when do sewers smell of..." the man closed the gap that was between them, closed his eyes and inhaled, "...Axe?"  
  
Warrick did not smile nor move. He was still pissed. They had agreed to keep their relationship under cover at work and that, of course! It would not interfere with their work. Had he known that meant to get the worst cases, Warrick would have thought it over one more time.  
  
"What is it, Ricky? You left the lab like you were pissed?" Gil inquired. They had not touched since he had arrived.   
  
"You give me the crappiest jobs lately!" the younger man complained, "I reel in shit and whatever ugly stuff comes up while the others have fun with shot guys in luxurious hotel-suites. Why? Why me?"  
  
Oh, this. Gil sighed, "Ricky, it is not easy to keep job and private life separated. I cannot and will not prefer you over the others and we agreed in that."  
  
"Yeah, but we did not agree in dissing me constantly!"  
  
"I'm not dissing you." Gil's calmness angered Warrick even more. Gil behaved as if he was absolutely right.  
  
"Oh, what else is that, pray tell!"  
  
"You work like any other. Nick was with you collecting dog-feces. Most ugly jobs you haven't done alone, right? Warrick, you don't really want me to send you into a casino for investigation, do you?"  
  
Warrick bit his lip and looked down. Fuck, but Gil was right. It hurt, but he was right.  
  
"Was bad, huh?" Gil asked compassionately.  
  
"You can tell! I found something in a tub that was too small to walk, so I had to crawl... fuck's sake, what a stink!" Warrick shuddered.   
  
"C'mere!" Gil pulled Warrick over and sniffled at the funny hair, "soap, shower-gel and Ricky. No stink here." The man continued his inspection, sniffling at Warrick's ears, throat, armpits and chest.  
  
Warrick chuckled. Gil knew how to make him laugh! But soon the man's laughter stopped while Gil's face wandered further south. Warrick was sure Gil would not want to hurry anything in their relationship and the path he followed right now was a dangerous one.  
  
"Gil..."  
  
Gil Grissom was lost in his exploration. Unfortunately there was so much perfume on Warrick that the wonderful scent that was genuinely Warrick was hard to be found. Maybe if he ventured further down, beyond the navel he would find some of the cherished scent?  
  
"Gil!"  
  
The strange urgency in his lover's voice made him stop, "What?" his blue eyes were wide and open.  
  
"You shouldn't do that." Warrick said reluctantly. He did not want Gil to think he rejected him, but it was better to stop.   
  
"Oh. I thought you might like it."   
  
Warrick could see how the shell closed again. How the defenses were pulled up again that Gil had only let down a few moments ago.  
  
"I like it, silly! But if you don't stop, I won't be able to behave." Warrick pulled Gil's face up and kissed him. A chaste brushing of lips on lips where he wanted to much more. After that first kiss they hadn't done much more. Of course there had not been too much time, but there could have been more! Gil needed time and Warrick was willing to wait.  
  
Gil sighed, "Define behave!"  
  
"Like: not ripping your shirt apart, not kissing you senseless, not falling to my knees and sucking you off or throwing you on my bed and having my way with you –" Warrick stopped at a strange sound he heard.  
  
Gil growled. Warrick's words did not only reach his ears, they seemed to have a direct line to his crotch. "That what you want?"  
  
"Oh man! Yeah."  
  
"You know, I wouldn't tell your supervisor." Gil grinned as his hand lifted the sweater, exposing a patch of taut, warm, brown skin.  
  
"I thought you needed more time..." Warrick slid down on the seat, coming to a more laying position. His heart was pounding fast with surprise.  
  
"you've waited long enough, Ricky. And so have I. I want this. You." 


	2. No Rest for the Brave

Warmth.  
Darkness.  
The complete absence of thought.  
  
Warrick laid on his bed, face down, not able to move. Not only because his body surely would have denied such request but also because the sweet, welcomed weight on top incapacitated him.  
  
Warm breath on his neck.  
A low moan in his ear, lips brushing his shoulder as Gil regained enough control to move.  
  
The perfection of the moment was disturbed by the cruel necessities of healthcare and prevention when Gil separated their bodies while the condom was still in place and not leaking.  
  
"Careful." Warrick flinched a little bit when Gil had moved a tad too fast.  
  
"Sorry. You OK?" Gil's voice was apologetic and he stopped immediately.  
  
"Yeah. I'm pretty sensitive afterwards, that's all." Warrick calmed Gil.  
  
"OK. I'll be moving very slow." One hand of Gil's was put on Warrick's back.  
  
The brown tried to relax although his body now tried to force out the intruder it had welcomed so much only moments before. Once the separation was complete, Warrick turned on his back with a sigh. He pulled off the one from his own shrinking penis and watched Gil tying up the used rubber. When he saw the slightly clueless face of his lover's who did not know where to put it, he reached out and took it into his hand.  
  
"Gotta go to the bathroom anyway, clean up and stuff." Warrick stood slowly.  
  
"I can do that. I'd like to." Gil offered, his blue eyes still dark with the afterglow.  
  
"Yeah, well, maybe next time... I hafta get used to, you know?" Warrick slipped through the string-curtains and disappeared in the bathroom. Maybe he was acting coy, after they had made love, but still his personal hygiene was - well: very personal. He needed to get used to having an intimate relationship again. He hurried along the procedure and then returned with a warm, damp washcloth and a towel for Gil. In fact for cleaning up Gil, not letting the man do it.  
  
Although the older man was amused, he allowed Warrick what the younger man had denied him moments before. A white hand caressed a smooth brown back during the gentle ministrations.  
  
"I know." Warrick sat there, legs folded, "It's ridiculous. I just –" he lifted his hands in a helpless gesture.  
  
Gil silenced him, "It's OK, Ricky. We all have moments when we want to be completely alone. I'm not hurt. I hope you will remember when there comes a time when I should need to be alone. It's not to hurt you or punish you. - " Gil was cut off by the phone that went off.  
  
Warrick looked at the display: the lab! He made a face and then picked up the phone.  
  
"Yeah? What now?" he sounded unnerved. Why of all days could they not leave him alone today? Only this one day...  
  
"War? Nick here. I'm tryin' to reach Grissom but can't reach him. So I'm simply calling everybody in. We need you, man." Nick sounded exasperated, yet he seemed capable of handling whatever situation was at hand.  
  
"What happened?" Warrick could feel his hair stand on end, he was having a bad feeling.  
  
"Guy freaked out at a disco. Gang fight or what. Lots of DBs. Day-shift is completely booked, so we're set to deal with it. Man, I'm worried about Grissom. You remember the last time he was not to be reached?"  
  
"No." Warrick hated to lie to his friend.  
  
"That's what I mean. It's not like him."  
  
"I may have an idea. I'll see if I can find him on my way in, brother."  
  
"Hurry. Best you come to the scene right away. I'll have the equipment with me."  
  
After the location was transferred, Warrick hung up.  
  
"What?" Gil asked calmly.   
  
"They need us. Nick is worried because he can't reach you." Warrick gave Gil an look that said 'what do we do now?'  
  
"I switched my everything off. Didn't want to spoil this, hmm?"  
  
"Damn, I hate it, but we better hurry. Sounds bad." They stood and hurriedly jumped into their clothes. In the car Warrick told Gil the few things he knew.  
  
"Tell them you found me in the park next to my place." Gil instructed Warrick.  
  
"That OK for you? I mean we haven't discussed how to break them the news..." Warrick did not know whether he wanted to hurry to tell the world or to wait another hundred years to make sure this worked before he'd tell it even to his best friend.  
  
"Yes, that's OK for me. There we are."  
  
Flipping their IDs they hurried inside the disco only to stop dead in their tracks.  
  
"Oh my God!" Warrick whispered with wide eyes. 


	3. Suspicions

Why, oh why don't I get reviews? *wails*  
Is my stuff so bad that I don't even deserve a flame?  
  
I think this part is to be rated R for the amount of blood.  
  
----------  
  
  
The coppery smell of blood hung heavily in the air  
  
Despite the bright daylight outside the place was dark. It had few windows and those existent were painted black in order to keep out whatever light might ever want to accidentally make its way in. Right now the sun was surely glad it had not to light this scene up. Else it would have hidden behind heavy, raining, weeping clouds.  
  
The few lamps that hung on the walls were not meant to lighten up anything. They only were spots of color that added up to the dark ambience of the place. //Gothic// came to Warrick's mind. The only bright source of light was the camera's flashlight Nick was welding.  
  
*FLASH!*  
  
A bloody hand curled around a metal-pillar. The way the fingers held onto the painted iron transmitted a sense of despair.  
  
*FLASH!*  
  
A dead body on the dance-floor, the black clothes mercifully absorbing the color of the blood, but shining wet since they were soaked with the fluid of life that was drained from the now lifeless form they covered.  
  
*FLASH!*  
  
A face, now hardly identifiable as such, cuts cris-crossing in all angles, flesh sagging red from white bone, eyeball looking weirdly big and round with the lids slid and pulled apart. Hairdo hinted it was a girl...  
  
Warrick kicked himself mentally, ripping himself out of the trance-like examination. His eyes adjusted to the dim light. //who's gonna tell their parents? Why were they killed?//  
  
"Officer, can we get some light in here? Try to find us a portable halo, please." Warrick heard Gil's voice calmly beside him.   
  
  
  
"Grissom! For God's sake you're here!" Nick called over with relief, carefully starting to make his way over to the entrance where his supervisor was still standing.  
  
"How many?" Gil asked  
  
"Five dead here and three survivors. They're in hospital already. Not sure if they're –"  
  
"Sara?" Gil called the woman, "You and Warrick are driving to the hospital and gather whatever evidence is still available."  
  
"But Gris, I want – " Sara opposed.  
  
"Sara, please: don't argue. Get there and make sure you get the shoeprints of the paramedics as well, so we can rule theirs out of the evidence." Grissom's voice left no room for arguments. Warrick gave Sara a helpless shrug and the two set off for the hospital.  
  
Nick gave Grissom a briefing about what they knew:  
  
"The maiden who usually does the cleansing found them about three hours ago. No witnesses. No suspect. The bartender on duty is among the dead as well. The owner arrived here after police had called him, identified his employee. As far as I can tell somebody really freaked out and... left. That's it."  
  
Gil put on gloves and started to examine the closest corpse. Face and throat slit open with several cuts. Suddenly a commotion at the entrance distracted his attention. The police carried in a portable light and switched it on.  
  
"Ah, much better!" Gil turned around, "Can you direct it at the ceiling? Thank you officer." In the much brighter light the supervisor continued his examination.  
  
"Clean cuts. The blade has been very sharp, thin, like a scalpel or a razor. Different depths of the cuts as well as different angles." He stated.  
  
"Like somebody in rage." Cath took up the train of thought.  
  
"Exactly." Gil glanced up with a small smile. They were a good team if it came to theories. No, they were a good team all the time. After all, they were friends. "I bet during autopsy we will find that some cuts started on the left, some on the right" he made a waving move with his hand to mimic the killer's moves.  
  
"How about the weapon?" he asked. Cath shook her head.  
  
"Nothing." Nick said.   
  
"So we hope the survivors will give us some clues." This was a massacre. And at this moment it looked like a complete senseless one //are there massacres that make sense at all?//  
  
"Where have you been, Gil? We tried to find you for over an hour!" Cath asked with a low voice.  
  
"I did not want to be disturbed." The man took his eyes not off the scene he was examining.  
  
"We were worried." She added.  
  
"I appreciate you care, I really do. Even I have moments I don't want to have spoiled, Catherine. As much as I work, I do have a life, you know?" Gil cocked one eyebrow. He knew people used to say CSI was his life. Well, it was an enormous part, yes. But not all. And he had the feeling that his private life was just on a good road by now.  
  
"Sure. It's just – it's unlike you."  
  
"Ah, what's this?" by moving a reflection caught his eyes and Gil moved his head to catch it again so he could tell where exactly it originated. Cath made a face: the man was now completely back into his world of investigation. He stood and walked to the wall in a very determined manner.  
  
"Voilá! Nick, can you come over and take a picture?" After that Gil picked something up from the dark linoleum. A straight razor, blood all over. And it looked like some cheap piece they sold in every drugstore. The thin layer of blood had dried on the handle and left a structure that looked like the print of a palm. Gil looked very satisfied.  
  
Cath held out an evidence-bag. "Gil? Are you wearing after-shave?"  
  
"You know that I don't."  
  
"You said so. But " Cath sniffled once more, "this is new. What is it?"  
  
"Axe. Shower-gel." Gil stated matter-of-factly, "Could you concentrate on the case at hand?" inwardly he cursed. These curious CSIs! Noticing the tiniest indicators not only of the cases they worked, but of all their surroundings.  
  
"Sure. Sorry." Cath excused. Gil was right. They had a gruesome case here and more than enough to do.  
  
For a while they kept working silently with their usual efficiency. Nick sighed with the load of fingerprints he was taking. A disco. The dark counter was completely dusted over with white powder and he could as well have taken a gigantic foil and spread it across the complete surface.  
  
"Who's ever gonna process these all?" he muttered. Surprised that he go no answer Nick glanced up.  
  
"Is there somebody new in your life, Gil?" Cath just asked with a smile.   
  
Nick could feel his eyes jerking into Gil's direction although the man would hardly comment this. To his utter amazement his boss did so:  
  
"Yes and no." Gil said. He locked Cath's gaze, his face showing slight amusement at the puzzled look on his friend's face.  
  
Gil walked back to the center of the scene. He looked around, taking in the complete scene again. Taking looks at every victim from where he stood.  
  
"Gil?" Cath inquired but he raised a finger to his lips to silence her. He was deep in thought. There was something... kind of a clue... if only he could get his finger on it! The supervisor turned around and around, staring at every victim over and over, waiting for the idea to surface. Nick and Cath stood quietly aside, waiting.  
  
"Tell me the difference between this guy here" Gil pointed at the figure on the dance-floor, "and the others, Nick." 


	4. Kicked Out Again

Sara sat in the seat, sulking. Warrick, filing in and out of traffic was sure he knew why.  
  
"Be glad. At least he's not sending us on another shit-gathering." It wasn't really comforting, he knew.  
  
Sara snorted, "Next thing you want me to be grateful, huh?"  
  
"He's the boss. We do what he tells us." Warrick hit the stir-wheel, "Hell, I'd give an arm to be there myself! After all that crap I really thought I'd... ah, fuck."  
  
"We do our job to find the truth. It is not made for our personal enjoyment. We do whatever necessary to give a voice to those who cannot speak up for themselves." Sara mimicked Grissom's voice.  
  
First Warrick was startled, then he burst with laughter, Sara joining in.  
  
"Sara, you're too much around that guy! You sound like him. Next step you'll run around hugging bugs."   
  
"Say, you know Gris quite a while now, don't ya?" Sara looked like she was ready to jump at any bait given.  
  
"A few years." Warrick answered slowly. "Why?"  
  
"Nick said he has no life. He says Gris is sleeping in the lab."  
  
"NICK says..." Warrick laughed, "Mr. Nick – know-it-all- Stokes says so? How, by the way did ya get the brother into such talkative mood, huh?"  
  
"Does he sleep in the lab? Come-on War! Just a simple yes or no." Sara kept poking.  
  
"What did you do to Nick?"  
  
"You're evasive!" Sara punched Warrick.  
  
"Yeah. Because, even if I knew, Sara, that's none of your business. If you really wanna know, go and ask HIM. 'Hey, Gris, are you sleeping in your office?' – 'Why Sara, you wanna join me?' hahaha!"  
  
"Dork." Sara punched Warrick once more.  
  
The man enjoyed the teasing, it had been a long way until Sara and him had found a common basis from which they managed to work out a kind of friendship. For most of them the team was some kind of extended family and now that Sara was not longer mistrusting Warrick's every step, work was much better. They parked the car and carried their field-kits into the ER.  
  
"So, what is it about you and Nick?" Warrick asked.  
  
"None of your business. Go and ask Nick himself." Sara shot back.  
  
"I did. He was evasive. Hey, Sara, just a simple yes or no."   
  
Had it not been in public, in a hospital, Sara would have hit Warrick. What a mean bastard he was! The woman laughed until a nurse asked how to help them.  
  
"We're CSIs and investigate in the murder at a disco. Three stabbed victims have been brought here and we need to gather evidence"  
  
They were informed that while two victims were still in surgery the third had died shortly after arrival. A nurse showed them to the morgue.  
  
Routinely putting on gloves, getting the camera ready. Routine moves but it would never feel like routine. Every case was different and every victim an individual. Sara pulled back the blanket. The clothes were cut to pieces by hospital-staff, soaking wet with blood. Face, throat and chest were slashed several times.  
*FLASH!* - *FLASH!* Warrick walked around the corpse, burning this gruesome scene onto film. Death had so many faces and he had yet to see one that was not ugly.  
  
A girl.  
  
"Any ID?" he asked.  
  
"No." Sara shook her head. She checked every pocket but found nothing but a few dollars. "She tried to defend herself." Sara lifted a hand that was slashed as well if not so deep.  
  
Warrick took off a shoe.  
  
"What for?"  
  
"Prints. Then we can rule hers out." He untied the second sneaker and pulled it off, making everything ready to process the shoes.  
  
"You lost something!" Sara picked up a small piece of paper that turned out to be an envelope. With a triumphant smile she held it up. Warrick whistled.  
  
"A hundred to one it's a drug!" he offered.  
  
"Yup."  
  
When they had finished they asked the lab to organize a transfer so they could do a proper autopsy. The other victims were in IC. To get to them they had to undergo the painstaking process of putting on sterile clothes only to find there was nothing to be found. Frustrated they returned to the lab where they flooded the day-shift's lab techs with their stuff.  
  
"Especially the contents of the small envelope. Might want to process them first." 


	5. The Difference

Nick stared at the dead person, then at the others, then back to the one Gil had identified as being different. What the hell did Gris mean?   
They were all dead.   
They were all sliced up, had bled to death.   
They were scattered around the room without any obvious pattern.   
Three girls, two guys.   
They all had died right here on the spot.   
So what was different?  
Clothes?   
Not really.   
All dressed in black.  
  
Then he could feel it, like a tingling in the back of his skull. An idea. Vaguely only but it would form and surface if he managed not to focus on it right now.   
  
Keep looking, Nick!  
  
Grissom watched Nick intently. Would the younger man find out?   
  
All white people, all in their early twenties. This one was a guy, like the bartender who was probably the oldest victim. So many cuts...  
  
"So many cuts..." Nick whispered, "So..." one hand raised up the Texan froze. Then the idea popped up and he spat it out: "He's not curled up... if you bleed out slowly, you usually curl up like the others; this one lays here spread-eagle and there's only one cut through the throat, nothing else."  
  
"Yes." Gil beamed with contentment, "This one welcomed his death, he embraced the darkness, he celebrated it. Good work, Nick. We're done here. I'll hold any bet we'll find more clues during the autopsy."  
  
They cleared the scene and returned to the lab where Warrick had just been brewing fresh coffee to keep their systems running. 


	6. Interlude

The coroners were busy so they had to wait a while. Nick strolled into the break-room. Warrick stood there and rubbed his eyes.  
  
"Yo! Tired?"  
  
"Nick, my man!" Warrick grinned weakly, "You bet. Had no sleep before you called. Man, I'm strained." The tall man stretched his arms.  
  
"Hang on, vacation is close."  
  
"Yay!" Warrick thrust his fists into the air in a gesture of victory. "I deserve it."  
  
"Stop flattering yourself. Nobody here who wouldn't!" Sara stated dryly.   
  
"Love ya too, Sara." Warrick grunted.  
  
"What you're gonna do?" Nick asked.  
  
"Yeah, do tell! How will you handle a whole week off?" Sara joined.  
  
"ummm… first I'll sleep a day or so. Not getting up except for a pee. Then... enjoy my hobby, drive a bit around, just driftin'." He couldn't remember when he had done so for the last time.  
  
"God! That's obscene, Warrick!" Sara grinned, "Seven days of pure laziness – you're a pervert."  
  
"I hear you!" Nick added.  
  
They all laughed until a beeper went off. They all checked theirs.  
  
"Mine." Nick left the room.  
  
Sara stared at the door-frame that had been filled with Nick's form only seconds before. Warrick watched her with a widening grin.  
  
"What?" she snapped when she finally realized Warrick's shameless grin.  
  
"Huh, nothing." The man looked utterly innocent.  
  
"Ah." Sara waved a not-worth-it at Warrick. 


	7. Clearing Up

When Frank Connor came to, it was a very slow process. The first thing that returned was his hearing. Strange noises were all around him: clicking and beeping and humming. Then came the feel of his own body. Strange, painful and... as if he was hovering in thick layers of cotton.  
  
Frank wanted to open his eyes and couldn't. Simply couldn't!   
That was when panic struck him.  
And he couldn't scream!  
  
The medical staff sedated him and tied him up to prevent him from hurting himself further. Then they called the CSI to tell them the first witness was conscious again.  
  
An unknown span of time later the door opened once more. Frank heard whispering voices, then a smooth, dark man's voice was addressing him:  
  
"Frank? We are CSIs with the Las Vegas Crime Department. I'm Warrick Brown and with me is Sara Sidle. We would like to ask you some questions about last night, if that's OK?"  
  
"Hi." A dry female voice greeted him curtly.  
  
"Yeah." He rasped. They had removed the tube from his throat but he was still sore from it.  
  
"In addition we would need to take your fingerprints. Sara will do that while we talk, OK?"  
  
"Why?" Frank found this slightly unsettling. In his imagination fingerprints were only taken from suspects.  
  
"We need all prints so we know which ones are those unidentified." Sara explained.  
  
"Hmm."  
  
Frank noticed several sounds. Paper being shifted, something ripping apart and the metallic sounds of boxes being opened, feet moving around.  
  
"What happened at the club last night, Frank?" the man's voice again.  
  
"We went there to have some fun, we're regulars there."  
  
"Who's 'we'?"  
  
"Deirdre and me. We took Billy along because he was so down."  
  
"Can you describe Deirdre?"  
  
"Sure. She's 5'4, brown hair, gray eyes – hey, you would know her, wouldn't you? Is she OK?" Frank's face ached under the thick padded bandages. Why would they ask these questions. And there was no answer.  
  
"Is she OK?" he demanded again, tense and shaking off the hands that were busy taking his fingerprints as he talked.  
  
"We're not sure. What did she wear last night? Do you remember?"  
  
Frank rattled down what he remembered. As if he would not know what Deirdre wore! He adored her!  
  
"Frank, I'm sorry. But Deirdre died last night here in the hospital."  
  
"No! You're lying! She can't be dead! She..." Frank fell silent again. It was all too much and he was numb to the bones. Deirdre dead…  
  
"Do you know if she used those drugs herself?"  
  
"Yeah. She did."  
  
"Did you take them?"  
  
"No!"  
  
"We can make a test to find out, you know that?"  
  
"I ain't takin' no drugs man!" Frank did not know where he found the strength to be angry any more.  
  
"Did she give out some of the stuff to others?"   
  
"Yeah. She gave Billy some, would make him feel better she said. Oh God!" Frank sobbed.  
  
His fingers were being cleaned by now. Gently but thoroughly. The woman's hands were cool and dry.  
  
"Can you describe Billy? Tell us what he wore?"  
  
"I'll try." Frank told them what he could remember. He had never been a too good oberservant and now, after everything was a blur of blood and panic, Frank found it even harder to remember.  
  
"Did it make him feel better?"  
  
"At first. But then... "  
  
"Something went wrong?" Warrick helped.  
  
Frank nodded. It was an ordeal to tell what had happened, as far as he remembered it. The CSIs were patient and gave him all the time he needed to bring out all those pieces of the puzzle.  
  
"Will they sue Billy?" he wanted to see Billy burn for what he had done.  
  
A sigh, a pause, "No. Billy is dead, Frank."  
  
They left him. Left him behind with his agony and anger, tied to a bed, crippled and marred for life. Went on to something else as if he was nothing but another case. What, in fact he was. 


	8. Solved

They were gathered in the break-room because it was the only room big enough to contain the whole crew comfortably.  
  
Sara gave a round-up of what she and Warrick had learned at the hospital.  
  
"So Billy – that is the one who laid in the middle – did not react too well to the drug and freaked." She ended.  
  
"By the way, what drug was it?" Warrick asked Greg.  
  
"phencyclidine. PCP also known as Angeldust."  
  
"Bad trip, huh?" Gris suggested.  
  
"We think so. Frank said that this Billy was in a bad mood anyway." Sara confirmed. They had seen the effects of bad trips of various drugs before, but never one so badly.  
  
"Shoulda stayed home and slit his wrists in the tub instead. Wouldn't have hurt anybody else then." Warrick muttered. Gil shot him a hard glance.  
  
"Who's doing the paperwork?" Nick asked, feeling sure it would not be him.  
  
"Me. I can sleep as long as I want tomorrow. You guys go home." Warrick offered. They accepted it gratefully and one after the other left, Gil being the last.  
  
"See you Friday?" Gil asked. It would be the supervisor's first day off.  
  
"Sure! How 'bout I'll drop by for lunch?"  
  
"Sounds great. Good night then." Gil turned.  
  
"Night." Warrick sat there and listened to the fading steps. Soon he was alone for a moment before the next shift poured in while he finished the reports.  
  
  
THE END 


End file.
